I actually slept for 17 hours straight the other day. My roommate was horrified. I felt like I should be too but I could not feel anything but intense pride. I used to feel bad about sleeping too much because it meant that I was finally sinking into an inevitable pit of depression from which I would never rise. Now I feel great about it. Einstein slept for 10 hours a night. I feel like maybe I should try out some complex proofs or something.
I am allergic to cats and always enjoyed telling people I was a "dog person." Telling people you like dogs, and big dogs, better than cats is something people just do. If you are a dog person you like the outdoors and are willing to rough it up. I know this is all crap but for some reason it creeps into conversation the way the weather and Paris Hilton do. In truth I think I might have some cat person in me. Cats sleep all day and don't need attention. They also don't like to be dirty. My dog used to roll around in shit whenever possible. I might go out and buy a tee shirt with a big cat on it that says "I don't do mornings."
What is horrifying is that I misplaced the remote yesterday and ended up watching a full episode of 'The Nanny,' with commercials. I think that may be a red flag for depression.
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